


Self-Preservation

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Angsty Draco, Co-workers, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Usually calm, cool, and collected, Draco finds himself wrestling with feelings towards a witch he assumes would never return them.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 26
Kudos: 336





	Self-Preservation

_Well, this Monday’s not off to such a bad start._

Draco allowed a small smirk to twitch at the corner of his mouth as he gazed appreciatively at the pencil skirt-clad hips that were swaying enticingly in front of him as he made his way through the bustling atrium. It might be a cold, dreary, February morning outside, but he was feeling rather warm as his eyes roved upwards, admiring the tiny waist accentuated by the fitted garment. As both he and the witch in front of him turned towards the lifts on the right, he was granted a full profile of her perfectly-rounded backside.

_Definitely off to a good start._

He was even more pleased when he noticed she was heading to the very same lift he was, and was quite content to follow the object of his perusal straight through the gilded doors, now focused on her shapely calves and the shiny, black heels she wore. They weren’t particularly high, but the strap around her ankle made them extremely sexy and he wondered…

“Morning, Hermione!”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He jerked his gaze up to find Dean Thomas already in the lift, grinning amicably at the witch in front of him who turned out to be none other than the Gryffindor Princess herself. He almost choked.

“Hi, Dean,” she smiled at her former housemate and then turned to see who had followed her into the elevator, “Good morning, Malfoy,” her smile never faltered.

Oh, he was on perfectly civil terms with the former target of his bullying days. With the entire scarlet and gold clan, truth be told. The war was almost six years past, they were all adults, and there had been a great deal of hatchet-burying as many of them funneled into Ministry employ in the wake of their coming-of-age and N.E.W.T. completion.

He and Dean exchanged nods of greeting, and he endeavored to smile at the brunette witch beside him, but was pretty sure it was more of a grimace. In an attempt to deal with his mental mortification, he pushed the button for the very next floor, hoping for a quick escape.

“Need something from the Muggle Artifact Office?” Dean asked in a joking manner, noticing the number that lit up on the panel.

“Just a question,” Draco muttered before lunging through the mercifully opening doors without further interaction. He strode blindly down the quiet corridor, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

_That had been Granger?_

Draco was having a hard time reconciling that fact. _Since when has she had a figure like that? Where has she been hiding those curves all these years?_ They’d been working in the same building this entire time and he couldn’t recall ever noticing her in that way. He wracked his brain for other visuals, but all he could come up with were images of her in her robes as she presented cases before the Wizengamot, or bundled in her heavy winter jacket as she was arriving at or leaving the office, or baggy sweatshirts she favored with jeans whenever they all went for drinks.

He’d never seen her in anything….well, the dress she wore to the New Year’s Gala was nice, he remembered. He had seen her from across the room as she conversed with several coworkers. Her dress had been a deep plum color, fitted on the top, with layers of flowing tulle for a skirt. Yes, she’d looked pretty. The strapless, sweetheart bodice had shown off her delicate collarbone and her slender shoulders. Her hair had been twisted up in an elegant chignon, and her diamond drop earrings had sparkled whenever she moved. But the gown had clearly disguised some of her other favorable qualities if what he’d seen this morning was any indication.

_I sound like a lecher._

Draco groaned inwardly as he continued to wander aimlessly around the floor he had no reason to be on. So what if she had a nice figure? This was Hermione Granger he had been ogling. Regardless of the fact that they were now coworkers and acquaintances, he knew there would be icicles in hades before she’d ever look twice at him as anything more. He resigned himself to forgetting about the view he’d enjoyed earlier, knowing full-well that continuing to observe her, even from afar, would only serve to irritate him, since he typically pursued witches who’d been able to grab his attention. Pursuing the Brains of the Golden Trio was not an option.

That decision firmly made, he stopped to take stock of his surroundings. He was at the far end of an almost-abandoned hallway and could barely make out the main corridor he’d apparently turned off of during his meandering. He huffed an exasperated breath, straightened his tie and jacket, ran a hand through his hair, and shook off some of the nervous energy he’d built up before striding purposefully back towards the lifts.

From now on, he would keep his eyes on Granger’s face.

ooo Three Weeks Later ooo

The Leaky was crowded that night, not that it was ever empty, but there seemed to be twice as many people in there as usual when Draco entered the noisy tavern. Scanning the place quickly, he found his group and started making his way over, weaving in between tables and attempting not to bump into anyone carrying anything that could be sloshed over onto him. Upon reaching the tables his friends and coworkers occupied, he plunked himself down in an empty seat and gave a general “hello,” to the group, all of whom responded with waves, greetings, and raised glasses.

“Wasn’t sure you’d show,” Blaise smirked as he leaned towards the newest addition to their party.

“Why?” Draco asked as he waved a waitress over.

“S’not usually your scene,” the dark-skinned wizard shrugged, “No bottles of two hundred year-old Ogden’s in crystal tumblers.”

“Oh, like you’re any less of a snob?” Draco teased his long-time friend, “Like you care how aged that is,” he jerked his chin towards the glass in Blaise’s hand, “Or even if the glass has been washed.” They both snickered as two bottles of butterbeer were placed in front of the tall blonde, one of which he picked up and clinked with Blaise’s glass in cheers.

“To the end of the longest, most tedious trial we’ve had the misfortune of being part of yet,” he drawled and his toast was met with nods of agreement and “here here’s” from the others at the table. That was why they had gathered; to celebrate the culmination of an insanely difficult and mind-numbingly onerous court case. What should have been a fairly cut and dry trial lasting only a day or two had turned into a five and a half month ordeal involving almost every department at the Ministry in some way or another as more and more details had been brought to light. His own department had been tasked with digging through decades’ worth of parchments and journals in an attempt to prove that one of the heavier accusations was founded.

Thankfully, the Ministry’s top litigator had been in charge, otherwise it might have lasted even longer, but time was not wasted and stones were not left unturned when Hermione Granger was at the helm. Draco hadn’t worked with her directly on anything, but he’d heard the rumors, or better yet the awe-inspiring firsthand accounts that were reverently discussed in hushed voices after the final gavel had landed. Apparently the petite witch had destroyed the defense and unleased a verbal assault on the accused that caused members of the Wizengamot to lean back in their seats, for fear her wrath would somehow reach them as well.

He had chuckled at the idea of her in the throes of righteous indignation, her magic crackling around her, her eyes flashing fire. He’d seen it before, been on the receiving end of it more than once, but never, _thank Godric_ , in recent years as she’d honed her skills. He had made good on his promise to himself not to let his eyes wander when she was around, and had solely focused on her talents in the courtroom and her quick-witted personality whenever they chanced an interaction.

It should have been no surprise, then, when she appeared at his elbow to a rousing chorus of cheers from those present, grinning and sinking down in the chair next to his with an exhausted but triumphant air.

“Hello, Malfoy, Blaise,” she nodded at both of them as she slipped off her coat and let it drape over the back of her chair.

“How come I’m still Malfoy and he’s on a first name basis?” Draco complained petulantly.

Blaise clapped him on the shoulder patronizingly, “It’s called making friends, Draco, you should try it sometime.”

Hermione snickered and shook her head, but allowed her eyes to rest on him for a moment, as if studying him before responding, “I don’t know, I guess you’ve always just been Malfoy to me. You still call me Granger, yeah?”

He crossed his arms and made a show of huffing in displeasure which only made her snort delicately, “Fine, _Draco_ , how’s that? Happy now?” His eyes had flown wide; he’d not expected her to respond like that and was unnerved by how very much he liked the way his name sounded rolling off her tongue.

_That’s not going to help me at all._

He knew he had to respond, though, since he was the one who baited her in the first place, so he nodded rather formally and fixed her with what he hoped was an indifferent look, “We’ll see, _Hermione_.” He literally had to fight reacting to the shiver that raced up his spine when he uttered her name, and the way her cheeks flushed didn’t help either. Thankfully, Blaise came to the rescue by clapping his hands as if applauding a great victory.

“Finally, we’ve moved to the next level of not loathing one another. I’m so very proud of both of you,” he pretended to get emotional, which caused Hermione to laugh and Draco to punch him in the arm.

He watched her as she continued to settle into her seat. Her hair was in a low bun, and she’d obviously come straight from work like the rest of them, as she was still dressed in a modest yet well-tailored navy blue shift and matching heels. The dress had three-quarter sleeves, and a wide neckline that reached almost to her shoulders. It was entirely fitted to her slender frame and ended right at her knees. As she turned her attention to the waitress who’d reappeared, she reached up and removed the pins holding her hair in place. Her chestnut curls unraveled and cascaded down her back as she ran her fingers through them to loosen them up.

Draco’s breath hitched as he watched her movements. There wasn’t anything seductive or even playful in her demeanor; she was clearly just allowing herself to get more comfortable; yet he couldn’t stop staring.

_When had her curls gotten so glossy? Were they as soft as they looked?_

Her order having been placed, she focused back on the wizards sitting next to her, “Glad that’s done, yeah?”

Blaise responded in immediate agreement and asked a question about final paperwork for the Edinburgh case, but Draco just continued to sit there, watching her. It had been several weeks since he’d been anywhere near her, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite this close. From his seat catty-cornered to her left, he had a perfect view of her face as she spoke animatedly to the attractive Italian who was directly across from her. He sipped his butterbeer and watched as her amber eyes sparkled and her plump, pink lips moved rapidly in speech. Her cheeks were rosy and there was a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that disappeared when she wrinkled it, which she was now doing in disapproval over something the defense attorney had said.

Blaise chuckled in reply and banged his knee under the table into Draco’s, causing the latter to jolt out of his fascinated perusal. He furrowed his brow, having no idea what part of the conversation they were in and decided compliments never hurt.

“You were a smashing success, once again,” he gave her a lopsided grin and angled his bottle to her in salute. She blushed prettily and lowered her gaze to the table while uttering a soft “thanks.” Before he could decipher what all that could mean, Potter and the Weaslette appeared and she jumped up to hug them both as they congratulated her on her courtroom win. This action gave him a spectacular eye-full of the “favorable assets” he had been determinedly avoiding for days on end at this point.

The dress she was wearing was extremely similar in cut and style to the pencil skirt that had sent him running off the lifts just three weeks ago and, even though he knew he shouldn’t, he let his gaze wander down the backs of her legs, taking in the three-inch heels she was wearing. His eyes snapped back up when she placed her hands on her hips, accentuating her curves and causing him to involuntarily flex the fingers of the hand not currently gripping the glass bottle.

“Might want to close your mouth there, mate,” Blaise snarked in a low rumble.

Draco’s jaw snapped shut and he narrowed his slate-grey stare at his friend who raised a brow as if to challenge him. The pale blonde snorted and shook his head, tossing back the rest of his drink and diving into a conversation with Tracey Davis and Anthony Goldstein who were sitting on the far side of Blaise and Granger, no, _Hermione_ , respectively.

_That’s going to take some getting used to._

When Hermione returned to her seat, she joined the friendly banter as well, completely unaware of her tablemate’s inability to stop sneaking glances at her whenever she wasn’t looking.

ooo Five Months Later ooo

Summer was coming to an end and Draco found he was actually looking forward to it. Normally, the warmer months were his favorite time of year and he spent as much time outside as he possibly could. He played Seeker on the department’s Quidditch team, and from May to August they had regular matches which drew quite a crowd of young Ministry employees. He used to enjoy the Saturday afternoons spent on the pitch, whether playing or watching, but this year he’d been completely distracted by the presence of one particular witch who was apparently trying to torture him with her clothing choices.

The first match of the season she’d shown up in jeans and a t-shirt, which he’d been able to appreciate for a moment and then dismiss. As the weather grew hotter, however, more and more of her bare skin was on display and the outfit she’d worn yesterday had almost cost him the game.

She hadn’t been there when the first whistle blew, which he’d only noticed because the Weaslette was clearly saving a seat for her on a blanket in their usual spot on the hill and _not_ because he’d been looking for her. At least that’s what he’d told himself. He’d been one hundred percent focused on the match until a timeout had been taken by the other team. He’d been using the opportunity to zoom around, looking for the snitch, when he’d spotted her. Dressed in a pale blue top held up by tiny straps, with a hem ending right at the waistband of white shorts that stopped just an inch or two below the curve of her bum. He knew exactly where they stopped because she’d leaned down to fix the corner of the blanket before sitting next to her friend, giving him a perfect, heart-shaped view. He almost fell off his broom.

He tried valiantly to ignore her, to keep his eyes solely on the other players, the bludgers, and the elusive snitch. Unfortunately, anytime he flew towards that end of the pitch, his gaze was drawn to her as if a magnetic force was at work. Twice, she’d apparently noticed him looking in her direction and had smiled. The third time she caught him, she tilted her head almost as if in question, and wiggled her fingers in a small wave. He let his eyes linger a second too long and almost crashed into one of his Chasers as they sped towards the goal. Thankfully he was able to swerve in time, and after that he stayed towards the other end of the pitch as much as possible.

_What the bloody hell is wrong with me?_

Thankfully, the snitch sympathized with him and was found hovering around the opposite goalpost. Draco returned to the ground with the fluttering golden ball firmly clutched in his hand, and a wide grin spread across his face. As his teammates slapped his back and ruffled his hair, he caught the sparkling eyes of a particular brunette witch who looked like summer personified with her long, tan legs and golden highlights in her hair, earning himself a grin and another wave before she walked off with her friends. He allowed himself to watch that walk for several long seconds. He had just won the game, after all.

ooo Several Days Later ooo

He knew it was inevitable. He knew he would eventually be paired up with her for some sort of case or project or legislative endeavor, and that day had finally arrived. The memo from his department head had greeted him when he entered his office that morning, explaining that he was to meet a litigation rep in the conference room down the hall. Upon entering the small and rarely-used space, he found Hermione Granger in her element. Scrolls and stacks of parchment littered the table, joined by at least a dozen texts, a handful of quills and inkpots, and two steaming cups of tea. She glanced up as he stepped into the room and a shy smile crossed her face.

“Hey, Malfoy,” she greeted, but then bit her lip before correcting herself, “I mean, Draco.” She smiled then and he felt at least a third of his brain go numb. She picked up one of the cups and offered it to him. His brows shot up in surprise, but he accepted the beverage with a nod of thanks and peered down at the table before he got sidetracked by the way her silk blouse hugged her frame, or the way her pleated skirt swayed when she moved. He let her explain everything she’d already been working on, as well as the lengthy list of tasks she was hoping they’d accomplish together, simply nodding and humming in agreement when appropriate. When she finished, they both sat down to discuss their next steps, which meant he had no choice but to look at her, lest she think he was being rude.

Her eyes were the loveliest shade of brown he’d ever seen, warm and deep and swirling with intelligence and emotion. She was extremely expressive in both her voice and her face and he found himself simply drinking her in. Usually, when someone spoke to him for more than a few minutes, unless it was something imperative, or something that held great interest for him, it all became a low buzzing sound that eventually annoyed him. Not her. Her voice was smooth and lilting and he hung on her every word. He noticed a crease would appear in her brow when she was unsure about something, and that she had a dimple in her left cheek that appeared with even the tiniest of smiles. She also had a habit of puckering her lips when she paused, especially if she was looking for something amidst the information before her. He found it quite endearing and wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

_Merlin’s pants, this is going to be torturous._

“Since we both still have other cases and assignments to work on, along with this one, we should probably just set aside a couple of hours each day to meet here and get as much done as possible, yeah?” She glanced up at him to find him staring at her and a blush rose up on her cheeks as she dropped her gaze back to the pile of papers on the table.

Draco shook himself out of his trance and agreed, “Yeah that sounds good. Tomorrow then? Same time?”

Hermione nodded and peeked at him shyly through her lashes and he wondered again at this reaction from her.

_Do I make her nervous?_

Thinking there was no way he could possibly intimidate the Ministry’s powerhouse, he stood, offering her a friendly smile, and said, “I look forward to working with you on this,” before heading out the door, replaying in his mind the smile that had turned up those perfect lips as he’d left the room.

ooo One Month Later ooo

Draco was in big trouble. He’d spent the last four weeks working side-by-side with the most brilliant witch he’d ever met and he didn’t want it to end. He’d gone from simply appreciating her physical appearance to actually _liking_ Hermione Granger, and that revelation had been such a shock he’d locked himself in his office for the rest of the day as he tried to unpack when _that_ had happened. He could objectively admit she was attractive, even beautiful, but he’d curbed his tendency to admire her knowing it would never lead to anything. When the fates saw fit to pair them up for this case, however, her outward appeal took a backseat to the numerous other agreeable qualities he’d learned she possessed.

He’d grown especially fond of the playful banter they engaged in, exchanging quips and snarky comments with lightning speed. The first time he’d made her laugh he’d wanted to bottle the sound and carry it with him, just so he could hear it whenever he desired. The way her eyes lit up and her cheeks tinged pink each time he paid her even the smallest compliment sent his heart soaring. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her, not hearing her voice, not inhaling her cinnamon-vanilla scent every day, and he was in no small amount of denial that the end of their joint efforts was upon them. The hours they spent in the conference room each morning had become his favorite part of the day, and if they weren’t able to meet due to other obligations, he felt unbalanced and ‘off’ the remainder of the time. He was afraid of how horrid he’d feel after not being in her presence for days or even weeks at a time now.

_Oh, stop being such a whinging prat. You’re a Malfoy – you don’t whine._

Summoning every ounce of his significant pride and self-preservation, he greeted her on their last morning together with a smirk and a theatrical bow as he presented her with a cup of tea and a bakery box of her favorite pastries. He filed her beaming smile away for future reference and kept up a cheerful, teasing line of conversation as they cleared off their workspace, all the while telling himself that he was being ridiculous and that once he was back to his normal routine, everything would be fine. He tried not to get completely lost in her earnest gaze as she thanked him for all of his help.

“Truly, Draco, I’ve really appreciated it, and I’ve enjoyed working with you,” her glittering eyes held him firmly in place, just as her warm hand on his arm did, and it had taken Herculean strength not to gather her up in his arms and confess his feelings. Instead, he’d returned her smile and patted her hand before striding out the door, tossing a “maybe we’ll meet again soon,” over his shoulder. He’d left so swiftly in an attempt to keep his cool and calm demeanor intact, he didn’t see the small downturn of Hermione’s lips, the slump of her shoulders, or the sheen in her eyes.

ooo Two and a Half Months Later ooo

The Ministry’s New Year’s Eve Gala was always a big, posh to-do, with extravagant decorations, fancy hors d’oeuvres, and everyone in attendance dressed to the nines. Draco usually spent the evening at a table full of colleagues and friends and this year was no exception. Blaise had brought Pansy as his date, Tracey had invited Theo, and Gregory Goyle had joined the ranks just a few months earlier, allowing for a mini-reunion among the former housemates. They were swapping memories and thoroughly enjoying themselves when Pansy pinned him with a hard stare.

“Where’s your date, Draco? You’re not usually one to attend these things stag.”

He shrugged, honestly not having any real answer to give her. He simply hadn’t felt like asking anyone, nor had he met any witches recently that garnered his attention. A tiny voice in the back of his head had bugged him to invite Hermione, but he’d refused to give in and face rejection. Surely she was here with one of her devoted fans. Last year she’d appeared on the arm of Oliver Wood, although rumor was that they were just friends, the same was said the year before that when she’d shown up with Victor Krum who was now working for the Bulgarian Ministry. The year before that, she and Weasley had still been together, and…

_Why have I kept track of her dates?_

That thought froze him in his seat for a moment, but he still heard Blaise scoff and remark in answer to Pansy’s question.

“He’s just got impossible standards.”

Draco’s eyes flashed over to his friend who merely cocked a brow as if challenging him to say something that would either dispute or prove his point. Again, Draco shrugged and knocked back the rest of his drink before standing.

“Anyone want anything from the bar?”

No one needed a refill, so he wandered off in that general direction, keeping to the perimeter of the dance floor, his eyes roving the crowd looking for one specific person. He kept telling himself he simply wanted to know who she’d decided to come with, but that tiny voice was screaming “liar,” and he knew it. He just didn’t feel like examining the real reason at the moment.

As he leaned up against the gleaming bar-top, he noticed someone approaching in his periphery. Someone who, once close enough, carried the scent of vanilla and cinnamon with them. He turned and found Hermione hopping up on the stool next to him with as much grace as she could muster in her floor-length gown. He grinned before he could stop himself.

“Hermione, fancy meeting you here,” he drawled in a friendly tone.

“Hmmm, yes,” she replied with a sniff of superiority, “Quite the random coincidence seeing as we both work for the Ministry, and this is the Ministry’s event.” Her eyes slid to his and she gave a teasing smirk. His heart skipped a beat; he had missed this, had missed _her_. He’d basically forced himself to avoid her at all costs since they’d finished their joint project, even going so far as to change his morning routine and take a different lift than the one he often wound up sharing with her. He’d thought that cutting off all contact would bring his run-away thoughts and unsettling feelings under control, and he’d thought he’d succeeded. Until now.

Here she sat, an absolute vision in black velvet. The dress was off-the-shoulder and dipped slightly in the center. The bodice fit like a second skin and the straight skirt pooled on the floor, though a slit on the left side reached all the way up to her thigh. Draco was struggling not to stare at her exposed leg as she sat perched on the high stool beside him, instead fixing his attention on her face, which, it turned out, wasn’t any less distracting. She’d never been a fan of coating her face in tons of makeup, which he found he appreciated. On nights like this, she settled for a small amount of lip color, eyeshadow, and mascara, which only served to enhance her natural features. The effect was dazzling and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she chatted briefly with the bartender before turning back to him.

“So, where’s your date?” she asked.

“My…oh, my date…I didn’t bring one,” he admitted.

“Really?” her tone was skeptical.

“Nope. You?”

She sighed, “I didn’t bring anyone either.”

“Really?” his tone was hopeful.

“Yup. Too busy with work to worry about who to ask,” she shrugged.

“Surely you wouldn’t have had to do the asking,” he nudged her arm with his elbow, “Ministry’s top attorney, Wizarding World’s Sweetheart, I’m sure they were lined up to ask you.”

She rolled her eyes and grinned sheepishly, “There were a few invites, but I declined.”

“Not up to your standards?” he teased.

She shook her head and looked down at her hands, “They were nice enough blokes, just not anyone I really wanted to spend the evening with.” At this, she turned and looked him straight in the eye and he felt his stomach clench. Surely she didn’t mean _him_?

He tried to play it off, “Yes, there are only a handful of people I can tolerate for a whole night, myself.” He winked at her and was pleased to see her blush before turning to thank the bartender for the drink he’d placed before her.

They chatted about their respective workloads as they finished their drinks and as she set her empty glass down on the shiny surface, he took a chance.

“Dance with me?” he stood off his stool and held his hand out to her in invitation. She glanced down at it and then back up at him, a shy smile tugging the corner of her glossy lips. She nodded and he fought the urge to punch his fist in the air.

_So much for getting over her._

He led her to the dance floor where a new song was just beginning, stretching his arm out as he stepped away, then twirling her into him where she landed softly with a breathless laugh. They arranged themselves in the traditional stance and began to move with the music. It was effortless, and comfortable, and over much too soon. As the song ended, they were approached by one of the senior members of the Wizengamot who requested a dance with his “favorite litigator,” and Draco had no choice but to hand her off. He bowed and offered her a lopsided smirk and a quick wink before heading back to his table, unaware of the look of disappointment that flashed across her face before she turned to her new partner with a practiced smile back in place.

ooo Two Days Later ooo

As Draco rounded the corner in Diagon Alley, he ran smack into another person. A person bundled in a thick woolen coat, a red knitted hat, and a matching fuzzy scarf pulled up over her nose. Even under all the layers, her chestnut curls and warm amber eyes gave her away in an instant.

“Hermione!” he exclaimed as his hands immediately reached out to steady her, “I’m sorry, I came around too fast.”

“No worries,” she moved the scarf down so he could understand her words, “I wasn’t watching where I was going. The wind isn’t as cold when you look down,” she chuckled wryly.

“It is rather frigid today,” he agreed, stuffing his hands in his pockets since he had no reason to keep ahold of her.

“Where are you off to?” she wondered.

“Came to drop some of my mother’s jewelry off at Gringotts, and then I need to pick up a few supplies at Flourish and Blotts. You?”

“Just came from visiting George,” she smiled, “I had promised I would stop by to see several new prototypes before the hols ended.”

“Anything I should be on guard for?” he teased, knowing full well the kinds of inventions the popular joke shop turned out.

She giggled, “Not unless you can be tricked by a rubber duck, or you unknowingly eat a large, purple lolly.”

“Ah, I shall be on the lookout then,” he replied in mock seriousness, “I’ll lock up all my other rubber ducks as soon as I get home so as not to confuse them with any imposters.”

Hermione laughed outright then, and his stomach swooped, which meant it was time for him to take his leave. Every time he found himself getting caught up in her since they’d worked so closely together, he’d given excuses to step away so as to keep her at arm’s length. It was better that way, truly. At least that’s what he told himself, though it was very hard to convince himself of when she was standing right in front of him, her curls dancing in the icy wind, her button nose pink from the cold and her eyes twinkling with mirth. He wanted nothing more than to swoop in and kiss her, but he knew that would be a colossal mistake.

_Keep your cool. She’s a friend, nothing more._

“I hate to run off, but I need to get back,” he began, dropping his gaze to the ground and as a result, missing the smile fade immediately from her face.

“Oh, of course,” she nodded and pulled her scarf back up over her nose, taking steps back from him. He looked up at her and gave her a small smile as she took a few more steps and waved goodbye before turning and walking quickly away.

ooo Three Months Later ooo

Draco entered the Ministry café without much enthusiasm. He’d been planning on meeting Blaise for lunch at a favorite bistro a few blocks away, but his friend had been pulled into a meeting that was going to last well into the late afternoon. After waffling back and forth about simply going to eat there by himself while finishing up the file currently in front of him, he realized he’d wasted too much time and wouldn’t be able to get back for his own appointments.

He was crossing the large dining area in search of an empty table when he spotted a head of recognizable curls. Veering off in her direction, he was ridiculously pleased to find she was sitting by herself, perusing that day’s edition of the _Prophet_ while munching on a sandwich.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked by way of alerting her to his presence.

Her eyes flew wide as she took in his unexpected appearance but her features immediately relaxed into a friendly, open expression as she shook her head and held out a palm in invitation for him to join her.

“Anything interesting in there,” he gestured to the paper as he sat and she snorted in response.

“Not unless you find Rita Skeeter’s drivel on how much money is being spent on the new hospital wing, and where that money is coming from to be interesting,” she rolled her eyes.

“Still don’t like her, huh?” he teased, knowing Hermione’s history with the sensationalist reporter and not caring for the sharp-quilled woman himself.

“Don’t think I ever will,” she shrugged daintily, “Some people won’t ever change.”

Draco’s insides turned to ice and he wondered if she was talking about him. Before his thoughts could spiral in that unwelcome direction, she clarified.

“Rita has no reason to change, no reason to be kinder or more honest. Her tactics get her what she wants, and very few have ever stood up to her. She sees no harm in what she does.”

Draco nodded, feeling relieved and then chagrined for making such a fuss over her opinion of him. They were friends, that’s all. He was saved from thinking further on the topic by a house elf appearing at their table so he could order. Once he’d done so, he asked her about her current caseload and they spent the next thirty minutes in amicable conversation. More than once he found himself fighting the urge to tuck an errant curl behind her ear, or scoot his chair around the side of the table to be closer to her. He kept fixating on her pink lips and wondering how they would feel against his own, causing him to completely miss the question she asked him.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled. When he met her eyes, she immediately dropped her gaze to the table, her cheeks going pink and he thought he’d embarrassed her by not paying attention. “I missed that last part, what were you saying?”

She huffed a small laugh and shook her head, still not looking at him, “It’s not important.” Now, she did raise her face, “I need to get going, though. I have a one o’clock.” She was staring into his eyes as if trying to solve a puzzle and he would have gladly given her all the pieces if he’d had them.

He nodded and stood as she pushed her seat back. She glanced at him again and smiled softly.

“Thanks for joining me for lunch. We should do it again,” then she turned on her heel and headed out of the café.

He stood there for a moment, watching her leave, appreciating the view for the umpteenth time and feeling like a lost crup.

_What in Salazar’s name is wrong with me?_

ooo Later That Afternoon ooo

Draco was sitting behind his desk a few hours later, proofreading the final draft of a proposal he needed to turn in first thing the next day. The letter flap in his door squeaked open and an office memo flew in, landing lightly on top of the stack of files beside him. He opened the paper airplane and saw it was a short message from Hermione, asking if he still had a file from a case that had been presented last week. After shuffling through the pile on his desk, he found the requested documents and decided he would just take them to her himself instead of using a Ministry courier. He told himself it was because he needed to stretch his legs and _not_ because he wanted to see her again.

He knocked on her door and was bid to enter, which he did. She looked surprised to see him, but rather pleased, which made his heart skip.

She came around the side of her desk, her hand held out to take the file he was offering, but all he could do was stare at her feet. They were bare. Her toes were painted a glittery pale pink. They were the most adorable feet he’d ever seen, and as soon as that ridiculous thought crossed his mind he choked on a laugh. He’d officially gone round the bend. He covered up his insane reaction with a cough and a clearing of his throat, simply nodding as he handed her the information.

Her inquisitive eyes studied him for a second, “You alright, Draco? Can I get you a glass of water?” She was looking at him with genuine concern and it was just the sweetest thing and _Merlin he had to get out of there._

He shook his head and managed to rasp out a polite refusal before spinning on his heel and leaving her office. He stalked back to the lifts, hoping he looked hurried and impressively focused, when really he was simply trying not to run full-out before completely losing his composure.

Back in the privacy of his own office, he started frantically pacing, jamming his fingers through his hair and muttering to himself about his preposterous behavior. He had never in his life felt so overwhelmed by the mere presence of another person. Well, having a maniacal sociopath living in your house was definitely overwhelming, but Draco didn’t exactly consider Voldemort a _person_ , more of a monster, and he meant this in a positive way. As positive as one could be over the loss of their faculties.

He was yanking at his tie, trying to alleviate the suffocating feeling he was experiencing when a knock sounded on his door, and before he could even comprehend it, Blaise had opened it and was letting himself in.

“Have you taken a look at the…” the dark-skinned wizard had been glancing down at a parchment in his hand but trailed off when he looked up and saw the uncommonly disheveled and distraught appearance of his normally unruffled friend.

“Alright there, mate?”

Draco just stared, wide-eyed, with one hand still tugging at his collar.

“Draco?” Blaise’s voice now carried a distinct hint of worry.

The tall blonde blinked a few times and seemed to come back to himself. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, threw his head back to stare at the ceiling and sighed loudly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

A dark brow arched skeptically, which Draco saw once he lowered his gaze and responded by scrubbing his face with his hands. “Just got caught off-guard.”

“By what? A possessed house elf? A raging centaur?” Blaise couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his former-housemate so discomfited. He tried to lighten the mood by joking, “You sure you didn’t just escape a handsy witch in the supply closet?”

If possible, Draco’s eyes flew wider than they were before and his cheeks flushed redder than a radish. Even though he was vehemently shaking his head, Blaise had the feeling he was a lot closer to the reason behind this odd display than a minute earlier.

“So who is she?” he asked conversationally as Draco moved to sit behind his desk, running his fingers through his hair and attempting to return it to its previous perfection.

“Who?” Draco asked sharply as he dropped into his chair.

“Whoever’s got your wand in a knot,” Blaise chuckled as his long-time friend tried to glare at him. He knew the game, knew most people would be intimidated by the fierce scowl currently being directed at him. He also knew it was a defense mechanism for a wizard who had been raised to hide his true emotions, raised to believe opening oneself up to others was a sign of weakness. The attractive Italian knew there was no real threat behind the angry frown, so he simply grinned and sank into the chair across from Draco, making himself comfortable and sending the message that he wasn’t going anywhere without answers.

Draco argued with himself for several long seconds as Blaise sat patiently, his eyes wandering around the office space as if he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t that the Malfoy heir didn’t trust his childhood friend, because he did. In fact, Blaise was one of very few people Draco trusted implicitly, besides his mother, his Aunt Andromeda, and, even though it still made him squirm to admit it, Harry Potter.

Shuddering at that thought, he huffed a long and defeated sigh, knowing that Blaise would eventually wheedle the information out of him anyway, so he might as well share his miserable secret. The thought of telling someone made it seem so horribly _real_ , though. As if it could no longer be a trick of his mind or some random, passing thought, even though he had known it wasn’t anything of the sort for a rather long time now.

He propped his elbows up on his desk and clasped his hands together, leaning his forehead against them and closing his eyes, hoping that would make this confession easier.

“I’ve developed….feelings….for someone,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Okay,” Blaised drawled slowly, not quite sure why this was such a monumental thing. Draco had dated quite a few witches over the past several years, so it wasn’t as if he was new to the relationship game. Before Blaise could question him on it, however, his friend continued.

“It’s….it’s not like other witches. _She’s_ not like other witches. This has been going on for months and it’s just getting worse and I’m terrified I’m going to do something awful and embarrassing and she’ll never speak to me again, and I just…” his words, which had been running together in his haste to get them out, trailed off.

Blaise was still confused, “If it’s been going on for months, I’m pretty sure she knows how you feel, mate,” but Draco cut him off with a shake of his head, which he was now lightly thumping with his fisted hands, his eyes still closed.

“She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have a ruddy clue how I feel about her, and I’m pretty sure if she did, she’d hex me on the spot.”

This caught Blaise by surprise, since he knew a fair amount of witches and the majority of them found his best mate to be attractive at the very least, and most definitely considered him to be potential dating material.

“Who is she?” he asked, echoing his early question, but this time not in jest but genuine curiosity.

Once again, Draco scrubbed his hands over his face and mumbled something into his palms.

“Say again?” Blaise prompted, unable to make out his friend’s muttering.

Draco dropped his hands and stared across the desk, “Granger,” he deadpanned.

Three seconds of stunned silence filled the room before Blaise snorted, “Good one, mate. For a second I thought you were serious.” He shook his head and chuckled but then met the slate-grey stare that hadn’t left his face and knew at once this was no joke.

“You’re serious?”

Draco nodded once.

“What? When? How?” the usually eloquent wizard resorted to stuttering single-syllabled queries in an attempt to wrap his brain around this startling revelation.

Draco slumped back in his chair and shrugged, “I’ve no idea. Best I can recall, it started back around the time of the Edinburgh trial.”

Now it was Blaise’s turn for his eyes to goggle as he remembered the way his friend had been almost drooling over the pretty brunette at the pub, “That was over a year ago!”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean, ‘it started’? What exactly started?”

“I don’t know,” Draco groaned, “I started…noticing her, I guess.”

“Noticing her? Mate, you’ve worked here for over five years. You’ve discussed countless cases with her, attended more meetings and conferences than I can imagine. You even travel in similar social circles, so it’s not like you’ve only just recently gotten reacquainted.”

“I know, I know,” another groan, another sigh.

“And, no offence, but it’s a little hard not to notice _Hermione Granger_ ,” Blaise was still trying to comprehend this bombshell of a confession. “I mean, even setting aside her history as a war heroine, Golden Girl, Brightest Witch,” he waved a hand dismissively in the air, “She’s bloody amazing in the courtroom and has gained her fully-deserved reputation as the best in her department, not to mention the fact that she’s absolutely gorgeous.” He couldn’t help the smirk that spread across his face as he thought about the curly-haired witch.

“I _know_ ,” Draco ground out, “I’m fully aware of her many impressive traits and her physical attributes. I don’t know why I all of a sudden started paying attention, but now I can’t _stop_ and it’s driving me barmy.”

Blaise considered his friend for a moment, “Why don’t you ask her out?”

A barking laugh filled the office as Draco flung his head back. Blaise simply remained as he was, his cool gaze fixed on the other wizard.

“You’re serious?” Draco asked once his outburst subsided and he met the dark eyes that pinned him in place.

Blaise shrugged, “Why not?”

“Why not? Because, for Salazar’s sake, she’d never agree to it!”

“You don’t know that.”

“She can’t stand me!”

“Since when?”

“What do you mean? She’s always hated me!”

“If you’re referring to the childish animosity you two displayed for each other back at school, I’m quite sure she’s moved on from that. It’s been almost seven years since the war, you do realize?”

“Of course I do,”

“After which she testified on your behalf.”

“Yes, I know, but,”

“And put in a good word for you here after she came on board.”

“Well, yes, but,”

“And, unless I’m much mistaken, she has been nothing but polite, civil, and professional towards you since you joined ranks. I’d even go so far as to say she’s been right friendly to you; working well with you on cases, chatting with you at the Leaky, even dancing with you at the annual Gala…” Blaise trailed off here, allowing his observations to penetrate his schoolmate’s sometimes-very-thick skull.

Draco scowled at his desk, wanting more than he was willing to admit to share his friend’s optimistic view of things, but unsure if he was ready to put himself out there in such a vulnerable way. He’d never really cared what any of the witches he’d dated thought of him to such an extent, but for some reason it mattered greatly to him what Hermione’s opinion was, and he was terrified of the answer.

Blaise sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any further in this conversation at the moment, nor was he going to make any progress discussing the parchment he’d brought in with him. Standing, he slid the paper across the desk.

“Look that over and let me know what you think,” he took a few steps towards the door before giving a final word of encouragement, “You’ll never know until you ask.” He swept out, closing the door softly behind him.

Draco folded his arms on the smooth surface and let his head sink down onto them, his eyes closed and his mind racing. He knew Blaise was right, but courage had never been his strong suit. He much preferred to keep his cards hidden, make sure the success rate was as close to a guarantee as possible, before playing his hand. If ever there was a wild card, Hermione Granger was it.

_Salazar’s garden gnomes, I’m buggered._

ooo One Week Later ooo

Spring was definitely in the air and Draco was taking advantage of the blue skies and mild breeze as he strolled towards his favorite coffee shop a few blocks away from the Ministry. He’d just completed a hefty pile of casework and decided to reward himself by taking a rare break from the office. As he approached the welcoming patio with brightly colored umbrellas, he noticed a familiar figure shaded by one at a small bistro table in the corner. Before he could second-guess himself, he walked over, pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.

“Skiving off work, hmmm?” he teased, enjoying the way her eyes had gone round with surprise when he’d appeared, and was pleased when her lips curved into a happy smile.

“No more so than you, I suppose,” she retorted, arching a brow in challenge.

“You’ve caught me,” he threw up his hands in mock surrender and she chuckled. He noticed she’d placed a slip of paper in the book she’d been reading and closed it, setting it aside as a clear indication she meant to engage him in conversation. Bolstered by the fact that she wasn’t going to brush him off, he took a gamble.

“I was going to grab a pastry, would you like one?”

She pursed her lips before admitting, “I already had one,” her eyes sliding sideways to the crumpled napkin hear her mug that was still half-full with tea.

“We could share,” he offered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth even as his brain was shuddering at how sappy he sounded.

_What am I, three?_

But the smile that bloomed once again across her pretty face wiped that scornful thought away and he tried to ignore the tiny skip his heart gave.

“Alright,” she agreed shyly, “But you pick which flavor.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from saying something completely inane like “you’re my favorite flavor,” and instead simply nodded and winked before getting up and sauntering into the café. As he stood in line, he couldn’t help sneaking a glance every few seconds over his shoulder, to make sure she was still sitting at the table outside the front window. His heart was pounding in his ears and he could feel his hands getting clammy, so he shoved them in his pockets as he read the menu on the large chalkboard behind the counter.

Several minutes later, he was back at her table with a tray that he plunked down between them, and was greeted by an adorable giggle as she took in the tiny buffet he’d presented her with.

“Are we expecting others to join us?” she joked, looking at the four assorted fruit-filled pastries, one large cinnamon bun, one slice of chocolate tart, and two steaming mugs of tea.

“I couldn’t decide,” he shrugged, grinning as he removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and offered her one of the mugs.

“Oh, thank you,” she accepted it with a smile and her fingers brushed his as she took it from him. His eyes were on her when it happened and her cheeks immediately went pink, her gaze lowering to the table. Once again, he was befuddled by this reaction. Before he could puzzle it out, though, she cleared her throat and asked him a question about a recent case, and conversation took off from there.

Over an hour later, they were still enjoying each other’s company, the tray between them now containing only a few stray bites they were too stuffed to finish, their mugs empty, and their cheeks sore from smiling so much. Draco was extremely reluctant to bring their impromptu coffee break to an end, but he knew they both had to get back to work. He was trying to come up with a smooth, witty way to imply he’d like to see her again without it sounding like an outright date, lest she completely reject him, when she huffed a small sigh and he noticed her brow furrow as she looked down at her lap.

“Draco, can I ask you something?” she still wasn’t looking at him, but his stomach had dropped to his shoes at the change in her tone.

“Of course,” he hoped he sounded calm, despite the pounding of his heart.

“Do you like me?” she did look at him now, her warm brown eyes pinning him in place. Her head was tilted as she studied him and she was blushing slightly, but there was a fierce determination in her gaze and a firm set to her jaw as she waited for him to respond.

“What?” was all he could manage to sputter as his eyes goggled and he felt heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“I asked you if you like me,” she repeated, still peering at him intently.

“Well, I…I mean, of course. We’re friends, after all, and…” he was stumbling over his words, and gesturing helplessly with his hands, and felt like he was drowning.

_Godric, what do I say?_

“Because I like you.”

_Wait. What?_

He froze, eyes wide, mouth agape, one hand still in mid-flail.

_What did she say?_

She simply stared at him, waiting for a response he couldn’t quite seem to formulate. The corner of her mouth twitched, like she was holding back a grin and that seemed to snap him out of his shocked stupor.

He cleared his throat, “You…you do?”

“Yes,” she nodded once, still fighting a smile.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and scrubbed a hand over his face, allowing himself a sheepish grin and a low, rumbling chuckle as he slid the tray off to the side and leaned forward, stretching his hand out across the table. She looked down at it, then back up at him with a question in her earnest gaze as she placed her hand in his.

“Yes, Hermione, I do like you,” he admitted softly, “I have for a long time. I just never thought you’d feel the same.”

“You never asked,” she teased lightly.

He shook his head and decided, for once, not to care about how foolish he sounded, “I was too afraid of rejection to risk it.”

She squeezed his hand, “I was scared too, you know.”

He chuckled, “Yes, but you’ve got all that Gryffindor bravery to channel when necessary.”

She rolled her eyes, “And I suppose your Slytherin pride got in the way?” He shrugged and gave her a lopsided smirk. “Well, we’ll work on that,” she stated firmly as she pushed her chair back and stood to leave. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll rub off on you,” she winked and gave him a wicked smirk as he made to put his jacket back on.

His jaw dropped a little as she started walking away, but she paused and glanced over her shoulder.

“You coming? We do have jobs to get back to.”

He launched out of his seat to follow her, once again mesmerized by the movement of her skirt as she walked purposefully towards the Ministry, and he didn’t even try to hide the grin that spread across his face as he sped up to catch her.

**Author's Note:**

> There are several versions of Draco in my head, and this one was more of a "likes to have fun but not get emotionally attached" model. He's drawn to appearances, but learns there's much more to Hermione than a pretty package, which is a good thing :) Just a fun one-shot with an open but definitely happy ending! Thanks so much for reading - I hope you enjoyed it!


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